


Roads

by sidnihoudini



Series: Lost in the Plot [1]
Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Bickering, Deleted Scenes, Hotel Sex, M/M, Mom Jokes, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 02:10:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21007991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidnihoudini/pseuds/sidnihoudini
Summary: Richie pulls out of the Orient parking lot first, and stares at the headlights of Eddie’s car in his rearview mirror.The drive back to The Derry Townhouse is short, scary, and not well lit.“It’s just Eddie,” he tells his reflection, trying to give himself a pep talk, but that’s the problem.It’s Eddie.





	Roads

**Author's Note:**

> Did I ever, for even one second, think that I would be writing a story about a Bill Hader character? No. No, I did not.

Eddie comes barging into the two-stall teeny tiny swan-themed bathroom. 

“Do you believe them?” He asks. Richie is approximately halfway through washing his hands and staring at himself in the mirror. “This is insane.”

_Oh yeah_, a flat voice in the back of Richie’s brain says. _Insane_. Eddie shakes his head and tisks and stands at the sink next to Richie, shoulder to shoulder. _I could fit that shoulder under my shoulder,_ a quiet, hysterical part of Richie’s brain points out. _I could put my dick all over that shoulder._

Richie clears his throat. “Washing your hands before you pee is psychopathic behavior.”

“Shut up, Richie,” Eddie bitches, clearly already at the end of his rope. He smacks the soap dispenser pump until it squirts. “I can’t do this! I have things I have to do, man. I have work on Monday.”

“Oh yeah, same,” Richie says vaguely. He reaches for a paper towel without looking away from the mirror, and dries his hands. “So many important places to be...”

Eddie washes his hands aggressively. “Richie, what are you even talking about?”

“Uh.” Richie pauses, and wrinkles his nose. “This is weird. Right? Like, this whole thing.”

“Yeah, man. Yeah, it kind of is. It is a little weird,” Eddie starts to rant, disregarding the wet, crumpled paper towel Richie holds out in favor of taking a fresh one from the dispenser on the wall. Richie smiles and throws his into the garbage can. “Jesus, Richie. We have to get out of here.”

Richie’s stomach drops all the way down to his asshole. “We?”

“Yes, we.” Eddie throws away the paper towel and reaches for the soap again. “I’ll follow you back to the hotel in my rental. You drove, right?”

Jesus fuck me, Richie thinks, staring. “I mean, yeah. We could do that.”

Eddie shakes his head as he scrubs at his hands all over again.

“I’m not staying here, Richie,” he says, snapping his gaze over to Richie so fast, he catches Richie still staring at his hands and his wrists and his hoodie pushed a quarter of the way up his forearms. “Fuck those eyeball baby finger cookies.”

*

Richie pulls out of the Orient parking lot first, and stares at the headlights of Eddie’s car in his rearview mirror.

The drive back to The Derry Townhouse is short, scary, and not well lit.

“It’s just Eddie,” he tells his reflection, trying to give himself a pep talk, but that’s the problem.

It’s Eddie.

*

Back at the hotel, Richie digs his phone charger out of the bed and throws it on the bag he never unpacked.

“Alright, well,” he says to the empty room. “Fuck.”

Fuck, he thinks again, succinctly. Wasn’t ready for that. Wasn’t ready for any of that, and man, it was a lot easier when all of those memories were just static noise. Mike knew what he was doing when he called everyone back, but he didn’t know what he was doing to Richie.

“Damnit,” he hisses, pressing his hand to his face.

_Beep beep, Richie._

It takes five minutes to talk himself down off the ledge. Then he squares his shoulders, picks his bag up off the floor, and walks next door, to Eddie’s room.

Richie busts in to find him delicately folding a series of dry cleaner bags.

“Wow, man. You packed more clothes than I own,” Richie greets, startling Eddie. Eddie glares back but continues his routine of meticulous folding. All of Richie’s nervous energy hits a sudden breaking point, and finds an exit directly through his mouth. “Do you really need to get your tiny polo shirts ironed? You’re not just fucking your mother, Eddie, you’re turning INTO her. You’re IN a lesbian relationship. Did you know that?”

Eddie takes a deep breath, pointedly meets Richie’s eye, and says, “Go get me my stuff from the bathroom, or something.”

“On it,” Richie replies. He heads in the direction of the bathroom and adds over his shoulder, “I really thought I might get some tonight, but I guess we’re running away from this big dumb bitch now. And for once, I don’t mean your mother.” The bathroom light is already on, so Richie stops in the doorframe and looks around. “Although, maybe once we get to Bangor.” Then, because that’s funny, he grins at himself in the mirror. “Ha ha, get it? Bang-er.”

Eddie calls back, “It’s not funny Richie.”

“It’s funny,” Richie sighs to himself.

He begrudgingly picks up the heavy duty, freezer-sized ziplock bag he finds on the counter. It holds another, smaller ziplock that has Eddie’s toothbrush, and then what also looks like a brand new tube of toothpaste bundled in plastic wrap. Richie makes a face. He keeps his toothbrush in the front zip pocket of the gym bag he also uses as luggage. Every time he pulls it out, he rinses it in the sink first, and sends a big gay wish up to medical Jesus that he won’t get thrush in his mouth.

Richie doesn’t even get to leave the bathroom before Eddie is back up in his face, suddenly right there beside him, pushing Richie’s hands out of the way and bumping his shoulder into Richie’s chest.

Richie tries to make himself smaller and bigger at the same time.

“What are you even doing, dipshit?” Eddie asks, exasperated. He fusses with the bag. “Do you even know how important it is to keep oral hygiene products off of hotel surfaces?”

“Everything is a hotel surface,” Richie manages. He pushes his glasses up his nose. The way that Eddie turns to tisk at him sends a hot thrill up Richie’s ass. Like, right up his ass. He grins down at Eddie and adds, for fun, “Your mom’s a hotel surface.”

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Fuck me on my mom, Richie, I get it,” he says, making Richie’s heart grow three sizes.

Fuck Eddie on a hotel surface? Even with a messy clown on their heels, he would.

“Watch it, man. I might come in my pants with a promise like that.”

When Eddie gives him a long, sour look of disdain, Richie breaks and laughs. Then he smiles, quietly, just to himself, as he watches Eddie diligently resume packing his stuff up. After a minute of watching Eddie toil away, beelining between his luggage and everything else, Richie realizes he’s got to take a step back, lest he actually fondly bring his dick out right here, in the danger zone.

Eddie is in the kind of mood where Richie would get sprayed down with something antibacterial.

“Alright, well.” Richie tugs on his ear lobe. “I’m gonna go get Ben and Bev.” Eddie waves him off without looking up. “Get your shit together fast, man, else I’m carrying you out of this haunted fucking house by myself.”

Eddie gives him a harried, “I know Richie, I know,” so Richie touches him on the back, and dips.

*

Down in the lobby, Bev tells them she’s seen how everyone dies.

Which is GREAT.

Somehow the group agrees to stay - to DO this - and that’s when Richie goes behind the bar, and starts taking shots. Eddie gives him the crazy eyes the whole time, but there’s nothing Richie can do about it. There’s momentum, there’s a group plan, and it goes from Richie and Eddie taking off into the night by themselves, to staying in Derry until the clown is dead.

Ben suggests they all get a couple hours sleep. They agree to meet outside the hotel, on the sidewalk, to find their artifacts at first light.

And now Richie is climbing the stairs for a second time. Drunk.

“If I’m going to fucking die looking for a fucking arcade token-” he hiccups, and then swears, twisting the handle of Eddie’s second piece of luggage until it begrudgingly thumps up another step behind him. “We better fuck now.”

He’s only half joking.

Eddie’s in front of him. He gives Richie a look over his shoulder, but doesn’t say anything else about it, so Richie follows, Eddie’s luggage rolling along at his heels, his gym bag slung faithfully over his opposite shoulder. They go into Eddie’s room.

“Don’t die, Richie,” Eddie says a minute later. The door is closed, their stuff is by the sofa, with Richie’s gym bag on top of Eddie’s luggage. Eddie looks serious, with his eyebrows drawn together, mouth a flat line. “Don’t die, and I won’t die, either.”

It feels like this is going somewhere, but Richie can’t wait for Eddie to get them there.

He raises his eyebrows. “And then what?”

“And… I don’t know, Richie.” Eddie pointedly looks at him. “Use your imagination.”

Richie IS. He opens his mouth to argue, and then what he says is, “We used to do this all the time.”

“Do what? What are you even talking about?”

“This, the…” Richie trails off, and fidgets with his jacket cuffs. They stare at each other. “The me and you thing. I follow you around, we fight. It’s cute. I kissed you once.”

For a split second, Eddie looks seasick. “When did you remember that?”

“The second I saw you.” Richie laughs. “I’m drunk now, by the way.”

All Eddie says is, “Yeah, I gathered that.” Then he frowns. “Jesus.”

“Clowns are scary, man,” Richie shrugs, digging one hand into his pocket.

Eddie frowns some more. “So are a lot of things,” and that’s true, but Richie’s off the deep end, now. He remembers everything. Eddie was his first kiss, and all the jokes tonight about fucking had started off as a bit, something he couldn’t repress, a knee jerk reaction to Eddie giving him those looks, but now, Richie realizes, it’s inevitable. Eddie gets super fed up with the way Richie is staring, and snaps, “Can you stop looking at me like that?!”

It’s true, Richie should. He can’t stop smiling. He asks, “Like what?” anyway.

Eddie gives him a dark, long-suffering look. Richie laughs.

“You know what I mean,” Eddie says a minute later, and Richie actually kind of does, but he can’t stop the way he feels squirmy inside with delight. “It’s not FUNNY.” Richie tries to arrange his face into something that says “you’re right, and I’m sorry,” but he must not get there, because Eddie starts looking even more fed up. “Stop talking about kissing me, stop staring at me like that, and-”

Richie doesn’t know he’s going to do it until he does.

He grabs Eddie around the waist and pulls him in for a hug, one hand going to the back of Eddie’s head as he does it. He’s never hugged anybody this way, but he can’t stop himself. Eddie’s belly presses against the front of his pants, and Richie feels himself starting to lose it. He gathers Eddie up more than he’s ever gathered anyone up before, and squeezes their bodies together as close as he can.

Eddie shuts the fuck up. And he hugs back.

“Sorry,” Richie says sincerely, maybe for the first time in his life. He doesn’t ease up. His forearms cross and press against Eddie’s back. “Wasn’t planning on-”

Eddie’s face is somewhere in Richie’s shirt. “It’s okay.”

“When I fuck your mom-”

It’s not even all the way out of Richie’s mouth before Eddie is bitching, “Richie!” and shoving him away, but that just makes Richie laugh, weird intensity broken, and pull Eddie back in.

“I won’t die,” Richie promises quietly. He rests his cheek on Eddie’s head. “If you won’t.”

Eddie’s eye bumps into Richie’s jawline. “I won’t.”

“But if I do-” it comes out compulsively, and Richie just has to say this, the _if I do get fucked up by that messy bottom clown, I just want you to know,_ mouth running, back in true trashmouth form, in a way he knows he can’t stop, except then Eddie stops it for him.

“I don’t want to hear that, Richie,” he complains, shoving Richie in the shoulder. “Just tell me you’re not going to die! That’s all I want you to say right now.”

“I won’t,” Richie promises, “but if I DO-” he grabs at Eddie’s face, and Eddie turtles back, chin disappearing into his neck as he tries to remove himself from Richie’s grabby hands and drunk, hurried promises. Richie gives up trying to hold onto Eddie’s face, and pinches his forearms instead, tugging annoyingly at his sleeves. “If I do die, I just want you to know-”

Eddie untwists himself from Richie’s grabbing. “That you fucked my mom, or my wife, or my dog, Richie, I know, I got it-”

“It was never a joke to me,” Richie says loudly. Eddie stops, and Richie stops, and they stare at each other. Richie is out of breath. Eddie’s still got his hand wrapped around Richie’s fingers, twisted in his sleeves. Richie raises his eyebrows, earnest. “The way we were, it was never a joke to me.”

“Richie-”

“I had the biggest crush on you,” Richie says, and then runs out of steam and snaps his mouth shut.

Eddie stares at him, eyes wide.

“I know that.” He grimaces. “Don’t you think I know that?”

Richie frowns back at him. “That was supposed to be romantic-”

And Richie’s face is still like that, nose wrinkled up, eyes squinted behind his glasses, trying to figure it out, trying to parse things through, when Eddie grabs him. 

He pulls Richie’s face down by his jaw, and he kisses him. It’s not a kid kiss, not like the quick smack Richie wetly pressed against Eddie’s top lip and top lip only that summer at the barrens. It’s open-mouthed and practically violent with the way Eddie grabs at Richie’s head, fingers clawing into the soft spots that make up Richie’s jaw joint and the skull behind his ears.

Instantly Richie is back in the green lake at the quarry, water up his nose and in his eyes and his ears with Eddie on top of him, drowning him on purpose, yelling in his face and laughing because when they were kids, that’s how they said it.

“Take off your jacket,” Eddie says, sliding his hands down and off Richie’s chest.

Richie groans. Every fantasy he ever had as a teenager rushes back to him; the elaborate storylines he’d concoct, every one ending with Richie naked, and Eddie telling him what to do. Show me your dick, Richie. Bend over, Richie. Come on my face, Richie.

He throws his jacket off, and watches Eddie strip. The red hoodie comes off, and the blue shirt starts moving up, and all of Richie’s best, dirtiest fantasies begin to come true. Sirens go off in the distance. Oxygen masks fall out of the ceiling.

Richie’s intricate tapestry of fantasies about how he’d get to rail Eddie a thousand different ways comes to an abrupt stop.

“What the fuck,” he blurts, hands frozen up near his throat, where he was about to start unbuttoning his button-up. He stares at Eddie’s naked top half. “Jesus FUCK, Eddie, when did you get so ripped?”

Eddie folds his shirt into quarters. “I eat a calorie balanced diet and exercise five times a week, what’s your problem?”

The answer to that is long and complicated. Richie opens his mouth, but then all he does is motion down to his body, where an adult diet of pizza and bourbon on the rocks is clearly right there underneath two layers of shirt. And honestly, even then, he’s been sucking it in all night.

“You look like newborn Steve Rogers,” is what he finally says.

Eddie sets his folded shirt down. “I lift weights sometimes, Richie. It’s not a big deal. It’s good for cardiac health. Can you lose the clothes now?”

“Is that how you fuck your huge wife?” Richie asks instead, sounding sympathetic.

Eddie’s whole face goes dark in about one second flat. Richie laughs and resumes unbuttoning his shirt from the top, pausing to laugh again when Eddie snaps, “Fuck you, Richie. I don’t fuck my wife.”

“She fucks you?” Richie says knowingly, only down to the second button.

He waits for a response with a grin on his face. Eddie gives him a pained look, then grabs at the collar of Richie’s shirt, knocking Richie’s hands away. Richie watches, amused, open-mouthed, as Eddie methodically unbuttons his shirt from top to bottom, all the way down, until his hands are brushing Richie’s fly, and Richie’s shirt is hanging all the way open.

Then he shoves it off, and goes for the bottom hem of Richie’s t-shirt.

“I see,” Richie comments, trying to play it cool. He holds his glasses onto his face as Eddie starts yanking his t-shirt up over his head, getting his face and his glasses and his eye sockets and his hair all jammed up in it. Eddie just keeps yanking, and the shirt finally pops off Richie’s head. Richie focuses back in on Eddie’s face. “Only your clothes get the delicate treatment.”

Eddie is side-tracked with Richie’s body. He runs both hands over Richie’s bare sides absentmindedly, and then looks up and says, “Get your clothes dry cleaned, and I’ll start taking care of them, too.”

“Fuck,” Richie blurts, because he didn’t expect that to hit him in the dick in the way it does.

He yanks Eddie back in, and Eddie wants it just as bad, pulling Richie’s head down and pressing his whole body against Richie’s front.

Fuck, Richie thinks, one hand in Eddie’s hair, and the other on the back of his neck. Fuck, I AM going to come in my pants tonight. The majority of the blood in his body has been shunted from his brain to his dick, so not only has Richie run out of steam on the snappy one-liners, now he’s feeling a little light-headed and iron deficient, too.

“Hold on. Fuck, hold on,” he pants, and he means to push Eddie away for a second, but then the hand in Eddie’s hair slides around to his shoulder, and he pulls them into a half hug instead. Richie groans when Eddie just goes with it, and sucks at the side of his jaw. “I gotta let my dick out, Eddie. I’m dying here.”

He pushes his hips back, trying to work his free hand down between them, and gets his fly open.

“Take it out,” Eddie tells him, even though Richie is already on task. “Let me see it.”

Richie gives him a look, a “what the fuck does it look like I’m doing, fucknut?” and then drops his forehead to rest on Eddie’s shoulder. He shoves his jeans and his underwear down and groans a little as he gets one hand around his dick.

“Fuck, Richie,” Eddie says in his ear, and at first he sounds mad, but then Richie realizes that’s just what Eddie sounds like when he’s turned on.

Richie squeezes his dick, trying to relieve some pressure, and manages a, “What?”

“I always thought you were joking about your dick.”

It takes Richie a second to figure out what he means.

“I’m over six feet tall! It’s proportional.” In a moment of clarity, he bitches, “What the fuck do you want me to do about it?”

Eddie squeezes it around the base with both hands and Richie instantly swears.

“Well, you’re not fucking me in a shitty haunted Derry hotel,” he says pointedly, and then starts taking things out of his pockets and getting to his knees.

“You’re going to…” Richie trails off, faintly. “Are you for real right now?”

Eddie unzips his fly and tugs Richie closer by the hip with his free hand.

“What’s your problem?” he asks, like they’re in the middle of bickering about whether or not Google Maps is giving them the most efficient route. Then he adjusts the waist of Richie’s jeans, pushing them a little further down his thighs, and leans to suck at the flat spot under Richie’s belly button.

The last time Richie got his dick sucked, it was backstage after a set, he sipped on a flat beer the whole time, couldn’t get hard all the way, and then came with a sad little bloop on his own torso. With Eddie on the floor between his feet, Richie wouldn’t be able to recite a knock-knock joke without notes.

He feels like he got hit over the head with a brick.

“You’re just so fucking hot,” Richie finally explains, laughing kind of. His body jerks forward as Eddie starts touching his dick, and he cuts himself off again. “Fuck, Eddie.”

Eddie reaches up, takes one of Richie’s hands, and sets it on his head.

“Come in my mouth, not on my face,” he politely requests. Richie’s fingers immediately tighten in Eddie’s hair. He nods, eyes wide, and Eddie leans in.

Richie instantly blurts, “FUCK,” tightens his grip, and then relaxes when Eddie mumbles around his dick and squeezes his sides. He’s so fucking little, how does he take so much at once, Richie thinks, mind spinning off into space. He laughs, and then groans, and can’t stop shifting his hips.

“Have you been practicing on something? Jesus fucking christ,” Richie babbles, staring down at the top of Eddie’s head, practically drooling on his own chest. “How do you, how do you-”

Eddie politely removes Richie’s dick from his throat and jerks him off instead.

“Do you always talk when you fuck?” he asks pointedly, making eye contact.

“N- no,” Richie pants, starting to curl forward even though he doesn’t want to come yet. “That’s all, all you. Just every, fuck, every fantasy I ever had in eleventh grade, coming true.”

Eddie gives him that look that flips Richie’s stomach over, and goes back to sucking. Richie doesn’t even realize he’s about to come until all of a sudden he IS, hips jerking, trying to get his dick as deep into Eddie as he can. All of the little muscles that hold his hips to his legs flex and strain under Eddie’s hands.

He watches, in a fog, as Eddie sits back and delicately wipes the corner of his mouth.

“Eddie,” he babbles, reaching forward and wrapping his arms all around him. Eddie is still wiping his face off with one hand, swallowing compulsively, laughing and grabbing onto a forearm when Richie almost knocks him off balance. He presses his front to Eddie’s bare back and sticks his hand in Eddie’s pants. “Fuck, man.”

Eddie’s whole body starts to twitch as Richie jerks him off. “Don’t call me man.”

“Baby, daddy, mommy,” Richie says, making him laugh. He cuts himself off to groan, one hand gripping Richie’s forearm as it moves. Richie presses his whole face into the side of Eddie’s head, nose in his sweaty hair, mouth against his ear. He admits quietly, “This is all I ever wanted.”

It seems like Eddie knows exactly when he’s about to start coming; Richie can’t relate. His whole body tightens up and he grits out, “Richie, fuck, Richie.”

Richie feels too big but small at the same time.

“Jesus, you got me good,” Richie says a minute later, pulling his hand out of Eddie’s fly.

Eddie’s still out of breath, but he still manages to snap back, “Yeah thanks, asshole. Next time I’m doing it on your face.”

*

They get an hour of sleep.

Specifically, Richie lays in bed, wide awake, and stares at the ceiling for an hour, and Eddie dozes beside him. It’s weird to lay in bed naked, Richie never does that by himself, but he likes looking down and seeing his body all awkwardly twisted up to Eddie’s.

“The alarm is gonna go off,” Eddie grumbles at 5:57 AM.

Richie thought he was asleep. Wide-eyed, he turns his head on the pillow to look at Eddie’s rumpled bed face, and asks, “How did you know that?”

*

The streets of Derry are blue and empty.

“Couldn’t we have at least had breakfast first,” Richie complains from the back of the crowd, bringing up the rear as he follows Eddie down the sidewalk. He’s still half asleep. He’s still fucked out. He’s practically disassociating.

Eddie gives him a look, but when he breaks out a protein bar twenty minutes later, he shares half with Richie.

*

At the river past the quarry, Eddie stops to take his shoes off, and roll up the bottoms of his jeans.

“Come on, man,” Richie complains. As the other four start crossing the river rocks, Richie stands and watches with his hands in his pockets.

Eddie continues to diligently roll the denim up. He hands Richie his shoes to, theoretically, carry until dry ground. “I’m not walking around in wet socks and pants all day, Richie. That doesn’t even make any sense.”

Then Eddie squints up at him, sun in his eyes, and Richie can’t come up with anything to say.

“That’s not what your mom said last night,” is what he manages.

Eddie gives him that dry look, and rolls his eyes.

“Don’t die, Richie,” he reminds him, taking the first step into the river.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr [@sidnihoudini](http://sidnihoudini.tumblr.com).
> 
> There MAY be plans to write a sequel that includes the sewers, death, and resurrection, but we'll see if my sudden hyper-fixation has the longevity to ride that one out.
> 
> richie tozier's jerking eddie off mix:  
* new order - bizarre love triangle  
* fall out boy - last of the real ones  
* english beat - save it for later  
* joji - sanctuary  
* slayyyter - daddy af  
* janet jackson - love will never do


End file.
